Shit - A FanFiction
by livelife-killzombies
Summary: "How did this happen? I only had sex with him once! I though you couldn't get pregnant the first time..." DarylxMyself !I did this for fun and I normally don't put myself in my fanfictions! But I think it will be fun to read(: If you decide to, that is! :D
1. Chapter 1

"Shit."

A Fanfiction About how I Became Pregnant with Daryl Dixon's Baby

by Kella Marie

Disclaimer; I do not own either Daryl Dixon or The Walking Dead. Norman Reedus is also his own person. Although I do own myself, so.. No. You can't have me(;

Backstory; Okay, so this all happened a few days ago while standing and waiting for the bus with my friends (who are also The Walking Dead fans). I had just gotten in to the show because my mom bought the first two seasons on DVD, and I had changed my background image on my phone to Norman Reedus as Daryl Dixon. As my friends started to arrive, we started talking about the show, and my sister (who is a fan as well) told me to show them my background. My friend, Ethan, who is gay, thoroughly agreed that Daryl was the most attractive male in the show. We then both agreed that the majority of the male cast is pretty damn sexy. Anyway, I was talking to Ethan and I just so happened to say that I was "pregnant with Daryl Dixon's baby." Ethan laughed and predictably asked, "how?" And thus, here is my story. This is now an on-going joke between my friends and I.

Chapter 1

It was the middle of June, and I had just graduated high school in the year 2013. This morning we had all awoken to a jolt stop, and Bryton informing us that we'd hit some traffic. I stood up and stretched, pulling off my "leg lamp" pajama pants, and pulling on my cut off jean shorts. For anyone else, my shorts would have been too short, but fortunately for me, I have no junk in the trunk. All my junk had shifted to my hood when I turned thirteen, and rapidly went from a B cup to a D cup. I bent down and grabbed my bra off the floor, pushing the pink, straps up on my shoulders and clipping the back, adjusting the cherry patterned underwire to sit comfortably under my breasts. My beige cami top hung loosely around my body and I had to tuck it in to my black and purple studded belt. I wouldn't necessarily call myself "white trash" or "trailer trash," but I'm not what anyone would call "classy" either. I'd grown up poor, living in apartment after apartment and shopping at Goodwill, along with many of the people in my group.

First off, there's Amber. The only one of my little sisters that I know for a fact had survived. My sister Ariel and my mother had gone to Pennsylvania to try to meet up with my uncle. Most days, I highly doubt they'd made it. Amber's most distinct feature is her height. Despite the fact that she is fifteen turning sixteen, she is just under five feet, and many times she gets mistaken for being ten. Her long, brown hair hangs plainly around her face and falls just past her shoulders, and there's never a day that goes by when she doesn't wear her boots, which were bought at a yard sale for fifty bucks. Online, the same brand were selling for over a hundred.

Then, there's Ayla, Bryton, and Mel. Ayla and Bryton are siblings. The only way you can tell they're related is their hair color, which is a dark blonde, but Ayla likes dying her hair. Currently, its brown with faded, purple streaks running through its long strands. There has never been a time when I saw her wearing anything but skinny jeans and a novelty t-shirt. Bryton wears the same style jeans everyday, along with some metal band t-shirt. He seems convinced "hair nation" is going to make a comeback, so he keeps his mane (as he calls it) straight and long enough to touch his chest. Mel is Bryton's girlfriend. She is the epitome of "I don't give a shit about you and your opinion, unless it's a compliment." She wears her hair short and naturally curly, and normally throws on anything that looks good to her. I've actually seen her wear a striped, green tank top under a black Metalica t-shirt. She'd cut slits through the middle of the short sleeves, running from the base of the fabric to the seam.

Lastly is Ethan and Ty, who are brothers. Ethan is one of my best friends, and before he knew he was gay, we dated. It was a really awkward relationship that ended badly, considering I was a sexually hormonal idiot. I feel like we didn't talk for a long time after that and I don't even remember how we started talking again. He wears a bright orange beanie all day, everyday, and he only takes it off to shower. He sleeps in that damn thing. Ty always reminded me of a small, human version of Godzilla. His nose is abnormally small, and his eyes are abnormally spaced out. For some reason, he was born with a Bostonian accent. This sounds pretty normal, except for the fact that no one else in his family has one.

We lost the eighth member of our group, Sean, a few weeks ago. He had sacrificed himself to save Bryton who was having an asthma attack while running from a bunch of roamers back in Exeter. He'd forgotten his inhaler, but luckily I'd grabbed mine while I was running out the door with my car keys. We all piled in my mini van and we were gone. Three days ago, we stopped at an RV dealership and picked up the biggest mobile home we could find, with six bunk beds on either side of the hallway, a master bedroom in the back (fully equipped with a queen size bed), a sitting area, that conveniently turns in to a couch, a kitchenette and a bathroom. Unfortunately, the bathroom didn't have a shower, and the last time we all bathed was in the Exeter River, two days ago, before leaving. We'd literally been driving, nonstop, for almost 48 hours, and we'd made it all the way to North Carolina using back roads, and taking turns at the wheel.

I walked out of the master bedroom, it was my turn on the big bed, and sat on an empty corner of the sofa/dining area booth.

"What's going on?" I asked Bryton, grabbing the map from the middle of the table and unfolding it to lay in front of me.

"There's hundreds of cars in front of us. There's no way I'm going to be able to get this thing to the other side of them," He came and sat across from me. "There aren't any back roads that I can see either." I observed the map curiously, turning it every which way so as to not miss anything that might look like an alternate route.

"Hm.. Weird, well while we're here, we might as well scavenge, right? We're running low on food, and there's bound to be someone who was smart enough to pack a cooler of canned goods," I folded the map back up. I turned to find everyone had awakened and was crowding in the den of the RV, observing our situation. Amber turned and looked at me sarcastically, as if to ask, _Are you kidding me?_

"We're stuck on a highway and there are no back roads," Bryton announced to the group. The silence was deafening, scared. I, myself was a bit scared. There could be roamers all over the place here.

"Bryton and I have decided it would be a good idea to go out and look for more food, and maybe even some water," I stated and stood up. "Who wants to go?" Crickets. Nobody volunteered. I looked at their subtly petrified faces.

"C'mon, any takers?" Nothing.

"It was your idea, why don't you go do it?" Ty asked matter-of-factly. At that, people started speaking up. In agreement with Ty. After a few moments of silent protest, I shrugged, and let my hands fall to my hips with a _thud_.

"Alright, fine. I'll go," I said, pushing past Amber and Ayla to grab my things. Amber grabbed my wrist and drew me in to a tight hug.

"Be careful, Kella," She said and released the embrace. I looked at her tear-filled smile and playfully tapped her cheek.

"I will!" I half yelled. "What do you think I'm gonna die or something?"

"Don't joke like that. Not anymore," She said seriously. I rolled my eyes and turned back toward the master bedroom.

We'd made the master closet in to, sort of, an armory. We kept all of our weapons in there, which wasn't much. A pistol each, a semi-automatic machine gun, two pump shotguns, a .45 magnum, and a scoped rifle was what we had for guns. The mele weapons were mostly made up of mine, excluding Bryton's spiked club and katana. Ayla was right when she said I'd be horrible at shooting, so I invested in some other toys. Two throwing hatchets, six throwing knives, and over 20 ninja stars.

I opened the closet doors and strapped on my holsters. Two black leather shoulder straps that held the hatchets, which hung tightly to my shoulder blades for easy access. Six thigh holsters for my six throwing knives, a phanny pack (which I wear on my hip) for my ninja stars, and black leather gloves. I must admit, I look cool, but all that leather sweats and makes _me_ sweat even more than I usually do.

As I made my way back out to the living area, my group had parted to form an isle for me to walk by. I felt like I was walking through the parted Red Sea, but instead of being on my way to something glorious, I was on my way to my death bed. I just so happened to glimpse at the dashboard. It read 9:13AM, and next to that in small, digital font, it read 98 degrees. I groaned as I came to the end of the columns of people and turned around to face them.

"I'll be perfectly fine. Don't worry about it," And with that, I ducked out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The sun was blistering hot and I could already feel my pale shoulders turning red. I'd only been walking for about fifteen minutes, but sweat was dripping down my neck. My blonde highlighted bangs plastered to my forehead in a greasy mess, and the rest of my hair was pulled back in a ponytail, if anyone even dared call it that. All it was made up of was the hair I could get off my shoulders. My boots rapped on the littered ground as I searched in as many cars as I could without losing the small amount of food still left in me from last night as of now, I'd found nothing, and the sweet smell of death rose up all around me in a claustrophobic, elevator way.

"Damn it. Why the hell did I even suggest this? I should have made someone-" Noises. I looked to my right toward the trees running along the road barriers. Rustling noises. Walking. I pulled out a hatchet and continued to stare. Up until this point, I'd killed five zombies, and that was in hand to hand combat. Time to try my skills with aiming and throwing. I whistled, hoping that would attract, what I thought was, the roamer toward me. A flash of light through the trees, I raised the hatchet over my head, eyeballing where it might be. A grunt, steady... Steady... A swift shift to the left, throw.

A sharp pain cut through my shoulder and I gasped, grabbing the wound with my left hand and dropping to my knees, gritting my teeth and trying very hard not to cry. I couldn't cry. There was not time to cry anymore. I focused my eyes to the sky, then let them fall to the ground next to my wounded arm. An arrow. I gazed at it quizzically as my heart pounded. If an arrow had shot through the woods at me, it was the result of one of two options. First, it could be a very smart zombie, or second, there were other humans here. I lifted my head to look toward the trees again, only to find a man, walking at me in an angry fashion. Slung over his sculpted chest was a camouflage strap, belonging to a black crossbow. The arrows look just like the one that hit me, and in his hand was my hatchet. He stopped in front of me.

"Git up," He had an accent, not strong enough to make his words unrecognizable. I stayed and stared at his hunting boots thinking _I'm going to die. Right here, right now. _He tried again, more aggressively this time.

"I said git up!" I stood, still holding my shoulder. I noticed that he was wearing blue jeans, a plaid, short sleeve shirt, and a denim vest. He had a bit of a goatee, some stubble of a mustache, plus sideburns and hair almost down to his chin. This man was an obvious redneck, a dirty one at that (physically). I let my brown eyes fall on his blue eyes, trying my hardest to look tough.

"This yours?" He hissed thrusting my hatchet in front of my face. I glanced it at then back to his eyes. They might possibly be the most beautiful eyes I'd ever seen. Bluer than a clear day in May.

"Yeah," I said plainly. His expression hardened.

"Well, maybe, before you use it next, learn to aim," He said throwing the hatchet at my feet. He turned and started walking back toward the trees. I clearly heard him say "Stupid bitch" under his breath.

"Hey!" I said, letting go of my shoulder and bending down to grab my hatchet and his arrow. My head was spinning with emotion. I had hardly noticed the sharp pains in my wound. I stormed toward him.

"First of all, don't call me a bitch," I said reaching out to grab his shoulder. "And second, your fucking arrow got me in the arm. I don't think I even left a scratch on you," I dropped the hatchet and touched him. He spun around, pulling out a hunting knife and pushing me in to the nearest car. The blade caressed my neck and I lifted my head, so as to stretch the skin a bit. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I'm sure he could feel it considering his forearm was pushing my sternum in such a way that prevented me from escaping. He snatched the arrow out of my hand and put it in his pants pocket.

"Don't fuckin' touch me," he growled in a low, whispery voice that sent shivers down my spine. "Your damn hatchet came two inches from ripping me open!" I didn't dare say anything. I just stared at him, shaking slightly and past the brink of tears. He stared back for a few moments then asked, "How old'a you anyway?" I bit my tongue, trying to swallow the lump collecting in my throat.

"Seventeen," I said, a tear ran down my cheek, breaking the no cry rule. He let up.

"What's a kid like you doin' out here alone?" He put his knife back in it's holster and his arrow in his crossbow.

"I'm not alone. My group's back down the road in the big, red RV," I pointed it out, but where we were, it was just a tiny speck. He shielded his eyes and looked toward where I was pointing. While still scoping it out, he asked, "Why'd they send you out instead'a someone older?"

"Me and Mel are the oldest, but Mel was asleep when I left," At that he looked at me, subtly surprised. It didn't last long because he had shifted his gaze to my shoulder.

"Lemme see that," He gripped my upper arm and pulled me to him. I winced, half from the pain and half because I thought he'd grip much harder than he did. He was gentle, actually. Very gentle. He stood behind me, and fingered the edges of the cut, probably checking out the internal damage. My breathing was even, but as he continued to touch me, my heart started racing again. I felt my insides melt in a hormonal waterfall, then I screwed that up when I shivered as he moved a piece of hair, that had fallen out of my hair tie, off of my neck. He pulled away and stepped back. I blushed and looked at my feet.

"Got any medical supplies in that RV?" I started picking at the cuticle on my thumb.

"No," I replied flatly. He laid my hatchet in my hand and I looked up. He must have gone and picked it up while I was being embarrassed. I started to thank him, but he had already started walking away. I stood there watching him, then he turned.

"Are you gonna stand there all day, or do you want me ta treat that?" He gestured toward my shoulder. I looked at him doubtfully, as if he wasn't real, and then I started to follow him.

"What's yer name, kid?" He asked, turning again to lead me.

"Kella and I'm not a kid. I'm turning eighteen in August. What's yours?"

"Daryl Dixon."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

I watched him as he walked in an out of a dilapidated tent on the far side of the small camp. When we'd gotten there, he'd sat me down on a log that looked out of place. I'd assumed Daryl had taken the log from elsewhere and deliberately placed it there for the purpose of sitting on. Strung between two, skimpy looking trees, there was a line of dead animal carcasses. There was everything ranging from rabbit, to squirrel, to possum, to some very large, black spider. To the left of that, there was the tent that Daryl moved in and out of, collecting medical supplies to treat my wound to the best of his ability. All it was was a blue sheet of tarp, strung over four sticks that had been jammed in to the soil in an uneven, rectangular shape. There was a gap cut in it, for easy access, was big enough to see inside. There was two sleeping bags (I'm not sure why) and in between there was a pile of canned goods, water bottles, and medical accessories. Daryl had hung his crossbow on a low, broken branch, on a tree, next to the tent. Next to that was a shotgun and on the ground next to that, there were four boxes of ammo. My mind wandered, filling with questions like _How long had he been here? _And _Why are there two sleeping bags when it's only Daryl?_

"Put this in yer mouth," Daryl said, shoving a rag into my hands. I looked at it confused, then back up at him.

"What did you do to it?" I questioned warily

"If I wanted to kill you, I'd'a done it already," He snapped. "It's just to bite down on." I looked at it, hesitantly, then folded it in half a few times. I lifted it to my lips and placed it between my teeth. It smelled like cigarettes and whiskey, and it stung my nose, nauseating me. He sat down on the log and unscrewed a bottle of rubbing alcohol. I glanced at my shoulder, which had stopped bleeding, and noticed that a pretty good chunk of it was taken off. Probably about an inch or two was missing. My heart pounded against my ribs and I looked away, observing the burnt out and black coals of a fire, trying not to think about the tattered skin on my arm.

"This is gonna hurt," Daryl mumbled and poured the alcohol over the wound. Burning pain shot through my body and I covered my mouth and screamed, biting hard on the rag and completely forgetting about how horrible it smelled. My laceration pulsed with my heart and after a few moments, the stinging dulled to a tolerable level. I put my head in my left hand and leaned on it, not bothering to take the rag out and breathed.

"It's deeper than I thought it was," He said, using a cotton swab to take out the debris.

"No shit. Thanks for the update," I muttered through the cloth.

"What did you jus' say?" Daryl paused, looking up from his work. I took the rag and placed it on my knee, turning to him.

"I said no shit," His blue eyes turned dark and he threw the cotton swab on the ground.

"I could poison you, so ya better watch it," He said through his teeth.

"Whatever happened to, 'If I wanted ta kill ya I'd'a gern it already!'?" I mocked in a horrible, hillbilly accent and laughed at my own joke. He held my gaze, holding another bottle of, what looked like, Witch Hazel, and a sanitary strip of gauze. I inhaled deeply and rolled my eyes, looking back at the fire of coals. Daryl poured the liquid on to the gauze and pressed it on my shoulder. I winced when he made contact. He held it in place and tore off four pieces of medical tape to keep it on. A twig snapped behind us and we both turned around.

"Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in," And thus, the explanation for why two sleeping bags were in the tent. He was tall, muscular, and, in the words of William Golding, "ugly without silliness." He was walking toward us. His strong arms swung at his sides, next to the pockets of his dirty jeans. A pistol had been stuck in his belt and his cut-off-sleeve t-shirt was sloppily tucked in to the waist of his pants. Daryl stood up, neglecting to place the last piece of medical tape on the gauze. I couldn't help but stare at this strange looking man. He must have been about forty, his hairline was receding and he had a hint of five o' clock shadow.

"Didn't yer mama ever tech ya not ta stare, Missy?" I dropped my gaze and he chuckled. He intimidated me. This was a man I didn't want to piss off. "You must be pretty damn special there, Missy. You got my baby brother dressin' yer wounds with our finest medicinals."

"Shut up, Merle. I ain't nobody's bitch," Daryl stated. _Medicinals? Is that even a word? _I thought to myself, picking at my cuticles again.

"Got a name, girl?" The man named Merle asked.

"Kella," I said, not bothering to look up at him. He scared me. He chuckled again and whispered something to Daryl, which made him shove Merle, and Merle laughed.

"Keep it dirty, Baby Brother," Merle stated, walking in to the tent.

"Fuck you," Daryl called after him.

"No! You got it all wrong! Fuck _her_!" I blushed redder than before and bit the side of my mouth. Daryl came and sat back down next to me, placing the last piece of tape on the gauze.

Daryl had started a fire and had skinned the squirrel that was hanging on the line, and was now sitting at the end of a stick, being cooked. The sun was in the center of the sky, but the shade of the trees was nice and cool. No words had passed between us since Merle had come back. He hadn't left the tent since he went in, and I assumed it was because he was sleeping. I figured I'd ask, just to start a conversation.

"Is your brother alright?" I looked at the side of Daryl's face. From afar, he looked so serious and full of hate, but right here, sitting only a few inches from him, he looked so innocent. A good man, hiding behind a mask of anger and dirt.

"Why're you always starin'?"He ignored my question and his eyes met mine. I didn't answer, I just reached up and wiped the dirt away with my thumb. A line of cleanish, olive skin ran from his nose to his jawline. His expression softened and I could see a hint of blush behind his mask. He looked back at his squirrel, which he had burnt slightly, and pulled it out of the flames, placing it on the ground next to the log. He turned back to me.

"What's yer bra size?" He questioned. It seemed like an attempt at a flirt, and I could tell he wasn't very good at it.

"What's your age? I questioned back.

"Old enough."

"Tell me your age and I'll tell you my bra size," I smiled, teasing him.

"Alright, fine. I'm twenty-eight," He said.

"36D," I replied. "Eleven years isn't so bad in this day and age."

"Are you saying-" I cut him off.

"Yes, I'm saying," I leaned in closer, biting my bottom lip. He licked his and looked toward the tent, probably checking if Merle would come out anytime soon. Merle snored. That was a good sign. Daryl looked back at me. His eyes moved from my eyes to my lips.

"Are you gonna kiss me or are you pussy?" I giggled and he seemed to get embarrassed.

"I ain't a pussy..." And he smashed his lips in to mine. His hand caressed my cheek and I placed my arms on his shoulders, tangling my fingers in the short hair on the back of his neck. I broke our kiss and lifted my shirt above my head, throwing it to the ground next to the log. He did the same and I started unbuttoning his pants. Once I got them unbuttoned, we both stood. He pulled them down, revealing plaid boxers and his massive erection. I stared at it, blushing intensely. He must have noticed because he pulled me toward him and kissed me, undoing _my _pants and pushing them down for me. He lowered me to the ground and kissed my neck. His facial hair made everything more pleasurable and I dug my nails in to his bare back, moaning. I hadn't done this since Justin broke up with me three months ago, but _this _was much better. He grabbed his hunting knife out of his pants pocket and sliced through the hip of my underwear. I laughed airily.

"How'd you know I didn't need those?" He stopped kissing and gave me a hard stare.

"Do ya really wanna do this?" I thought about it a second and nodded. He shifted backwards and pulled down first his then my undergarments, and I sat up undoing my bra. Daryl positioned himself between my legs and entered. I held my breath and gritted my teeth, being a virgin, it hurt. Luckily, I'd already popped my cherry with a tampon, so that was one thing I didn't have to worry about.

His hands moved along my body, smearing it with dirt and mud. He reached my breasts and softly massaged them in a circular motion. I let small sounds escape and I involuntarily started thrusting up while Daryl was thrusting down. He pulled his lips from mine and placed them on my right breast, sucking slowly, and I scratched his shoulder blades. My breathing was heavy and my lungs burned. I felt helplessly turned on and I hoped he wouldn't stop, even if I asked

"Daryl..." His hips moved faster and I moaned. He lifted himself back to my lips and placed his hands in mine, intertwining our fingers and pushing them above my head. The air around us smelled like sweat, sex and campfire. I pulled away from the kiss.

"My turn," I said confidently. Although I was a virgin, I knew how to make a man feel good. I rolled him over and mounted him again, letting my tongue taste the salty flesh of his chiseled chest. The tight in and out pull of his manhood in my womanhood plus the feel of dominance over an older man was beautifully sexy. I kissed his collar bone and my mouth pulsated with his racing heart. His hands moved to the small of my back and pulled me in to him. I smiled and moved to his neck, hickey-ing the base deeply. I felt him tangle his fingers in my hair and lightly pull. I exhaled with a pleasant sound and kissed him again. Then it hit me. Physically and mentally. Physically, I felt something like a rush of thick liquid push in to me. He had finished inside of me, which triggered the fact that he had never put on a condom. Maybe he thought I was on the pill. Most girls my age were, but I wasn't. _You can't pregnant the first time. _I told myself over and over as I got off and laid on the ground next to Daryl. I inhaled and exhaled trying to calm myself down.

"I'll be right back," He said, pulling his jeans back on and walking in to the tent. I stood and pulled my shorts and bra on and walked to a tree to urinate.

When I returned to the camp, Daryl was sitting on the stump, smoking a cigarette.

"Want one?" He asked as I sat down next to him. He tipped the box toward me and I took one. It was the end of the world. Who cares if I smoked? I placed the butt in my mouth and he lit it with a match, then lit his at the end of mine. I inhaled and coughed. Daryl laughed.

"Never smoked before?" He questioned again. I shook my head.

"Why're ya so quiet all of a sudden? Was it bad?" I shook my head again and tried to take another drag, being more successful this time.

"I'm just amazed that I didn't scream," I lied. "I was a virgin y'know."

"I was wondering why you were so tight," I met his eyes and he smiled sarcastically as I placed my head on his shoulder.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**My writing style in this chapter is a bit altered. I wanted to try something new(: If you don't like it, let me know and I'll change it back**

The sun was just about setting when I got back to the RV. I'd been panicking the whole time and four roamers came at me all at once on the way back. I sighed. _They'll probably be pissed. It's been seven hours since I left... _I thought, my hand on the door. I could hear them talking inside, and I thought I heard my name a few times. Did they think I was dead? Probably, considering when I opened the door, Amber's body smashed in to me like a bag of rocks. I fell backward on to the pavement, hissing at the pain in my shoulder. She'd wrapped her arms around my waist and was hugging me, crying.

"I thought I'd lost you!" She yelled in to my shirt. "I thought I fucking lost you! Where were you?" I was leaning on my hands, trying to put as much weight as I could on my good arm.

"Sorry... I got caught up talking to this guy that I met-" Ethan cut me off.

"Okay, that's pretty cool. You met some guy, disappeared with him in to the woods, and then what? Just talked?" I rolled me eyes and groaned in self loathing.

"You guys saw that...?"

"Of course we did! You didn't think we would let you go out there without keeping watch on you, did you?" Ty yelled. Amber's eyes were filled with hot tears, she had pushed off of me and was now sitting on the ground to my left.

"Well, I didn't think-"

"Obviously." Ty retorted. I looked at my group's angry faces and bit the inside of my cheek. A part of me wanted to say fuck them. Daryl had offered for me to join their group. He said they were leaving tomorrow morning to head to Atlanta, Georgia. Another part of me knew why they were all so pissed. I'd disappeared in to the woods for seven hours. They thought I'd been mauled to death, so I just sat there and said nothing. Like an idiot. Just sat there on my ass and didn't do anything or say a word.

"C'mon, Kel. Just come inside, it's getting dark anyhow," Amber said, standing then reaching to help me up. I grabbed her hand and hoisted myself to my feet.

"Not cool, Kella," Ayla said as she passed me to get in the RV. God I felt like shit. What would they say if I was pregnant because of this Daryl Dixon guy, that I hardly knew and lost my virginity to?

I stood with my hand on the door, holding it open. I let my eyes linger on the woods, in the general direction of where I thought Daryl and Merle might be. All I could think was how amazing it had been. I let my mind wander, remember again.

_We exited the woods, his hand on my hip and mine on his. We were like a new found couple. It made me think of middle school in a way. A boy asks a girl out, the girl says yes, and bam. Love. It was so easy then, and it felt easy now. Before we'd left, Daryl changed the gauze on my shoulder and gave me the rest of the roll, telling me to change it when I woke up, or if it got dirty. And trust me, shit got dirty... He'd walked with me halfway to the RV, not wanting to get any closer, for fear they might be a threat._

_ "You can come with us y'know. Ditch 'em and travel with Merle and me," Daryl had suggested, holding me close to him, his hands wrapped around my waist. I thought about it, looking at our feet. I let out a sigh and shook my head._

_ "I can't just leave them, Daryl. I have a feeling they need me. And anyway, I've known them for years. I can't just leave them for dead, y'know?" I looked back up at his eyes and smiled. He half-heartedly smiled back. I could tell he wasn't very happy. He only smiled to make me feel better. He turned and kissed me lightly on the lips._

_ "If ya change yer mind_, _we're leaving tomorrow at noon," and with that, he left. Escaping back in to the trees._

"Kella? Are you alive?" Mel's voice travelled in to my train of thought. I blinked a few times and looked back at the RV, seeing her standing with her head out the door.

"Yeah, I was just thinking..." My voice trailed off and Mel laughed.

"Just get in and tell me about it later," She said and ducked inside. I glimpsed down the highway one more time, hoping to see Daryl walking toward us. Of course, that didn't happen, and I exhaled, defeated, entering the RV, and closing and locking the door behind me.

Despite how stupid it was, we decided to spend the night on the highway. There were roamers all around us, and we tried to be as quiet and motionless as humanly possible. Bryton had made a logical point that no matter where we go, there'll be roamers. In the direction we'd come from, there was a city. There'd be more there than there would be here.

I laid on the top bunk in the hall, beating myself up for being so stupid. It seemed like everyone but Mel was giving me the cold shoulder. She'd walked up and leaned her arms at the edge of the bed.

"So... What did he look like? Specifically," she said with a smirk. I chuckled and sat up to the best of my ability. It was a tight squeeze up there.

"Sexy," I said. "He was kind of trashy... Okay really trashy. The epitome of white trash, denim vest, jeans, plaid t-shirt, dirty. He literally had the most amazing eyes though... They were so blue," I sighed happily and looked at her.

"He sounds delicious," She said bluntly. "Will I ever get to meet Mr. Sexy Blue Eyes?" I laughed quietly at that.

"God, I hope so. Him and his brother are supposed to be leaving tomorrow at noon. Apparently they're going to Atlanta. They think there might be more people left at the CDC."

"Makes sense, maybe we should do the same. We'll talk about it tomorrow," Mel extended her arms, holding herself up with her hands. "What happened to your arm?"

I'd completely forgotten about that until she brought it up.

"He shot me," I stated bluntly.

"Great first impression, I'd say. Shoots you and you fuck him," She laughed, and that caused me to laugh.

"I threw my hatchet at him too," This made both of us laugh harder. It took a great deal of effort to stay quiet.

"Well, if you want to catch them before they run away, I suggest you sleep and get up early," Mel said, letting her arms fall to her sides.

"Probably a good idea," I said with a smile. "Night, Mel."

"Night, Kella," She walked in to the master bedroom and closed the door. Bryton was already in there, I assumed. I didn't see him walk back there after she'd left. I stared at the ceiling, think about Daryl and Merle and Amber and my group. Thinking and waiting for sleep to take me over.

**This chapter was so short! The next one will be exciting, I promise(:**


End file.
